


Flying High

by Nightstorm



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fear of Flying, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, No Aliens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightstorm/pseuds/Nightstorm
Summary: John Smith has hated flying ever since his parents died in a plane crash, so it's no wonder that he dreads eight hours of it on his way back to London. However, meeting the beautiful and charming Rose Tyler might just be the distraction he needs.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Flying High

John Smith hated planes.

There wasn’t any real logic to it. Intellectually, he knew they were perfectly safe and thousands of flights per day made their journey without so much as a hitch. No problemo. Molto bene. Everything fine. He loved the technology and physics behind them and he could marvel at them for hours, getting lost in tiny details that fascinated him.

It was just so very difficult not to hate something that killed your parents.

He resolutely tried to ignore the twisting knots in his stomach as he boarded his plane back to London. He’d be fine. He’d be absolutely, totally fine.

He did not feel fine.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and surreptitiously wiping his sweaty hands on his pinstripe suit, he went looking for his seat. He glanced at his boarding pass again to make sure he remembered the right number – yep, 24C, a seat directly by the aisle and, to his disappointment, towards the back of the plane. Ugh. He’d wanted a seat in the front so he could maybe watch the pilots and talk to them; that had been the only thing that had kept him sane during the eight hours flight to Boston, but those seats had already been taken, the flight completely booked out. He’d been lucky to at least get an aisle seat so he wouldn’t be sandwiched between two strangers, or be forced to always have a window in his peripheral vision.

Reaching his seat, he stored his little bag with everything he’d need during the flight beneath the seat in front of him and then plopped down. Glancing around he noted that the plane was filling quickly; people were still storing their luggage in the overhead bins (much to the annoyance of everyone standing in the aisle behind them, waiting to pass through to their seats), but as far as he could tell, almost every seat was already taken. His row was almost full, the only empty seat the one right beside him.

He didn’t know if he wanted that to change or not.

On the one hand, as much as he liked people, he hated being stuck with them if they turned out to be unpleasant (and on an eight-hour flight, most people were). On the other hand, they might be a potential distraction from said eight hours.

He really, really hoped they would be a distraction.

He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed when a young woman stopped beside him and politely cleared her throat. In fact, he was fairly certain that he _hadn’t_ noticed her for quite a while, going by the slightly annoyed look on her face when he finally looked up.

His breath caught for entirely different reasons than before. She was _beautiful._ Soft, wide lips that begged to be kissed, honey brown eyes that seemed to glow from within, thrown into stark contrast by her dark mascara, and expressive features – that looked more and more annoyed the longer he stared at her.

Fuck.

“Sorry?” he said, blinking up at her, trying desperately to scramble for a more eloquent response to whatever question she must have asked him.

“Could you please let me through to my seat?” she repeated. John wasn’t always the best at deciphering subtle cues in body language and tone of voice, but he was fairly certain that she sounded irritated.

And wasn’t that just like him. Meet a gorgeous blonde and then immediately muck it up by being a slow idiot, or worse, dumb creep who was s _till staring._ Hastily he looked away from her lovely lips and folded in his long legs as much as possible to let her sit down _right next to him._

Oh, this flight would be torture. He just haaad to ask for a distraction, didn’t he?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, I was… a bit lost in thought. Don’t much like flying, me. It’s… well. Nevermind. Sorry again.” And he was rambling again, great.

But her eyes softened in what he believed to be sympathy, so maybe he didn’t totally muck it up after all. “Are you alright? Anything I can do to help?”

John gave her a weak smile. “Not unless you know how to dematerialize and instantly rematerialize hundreds of kilometres away, I’m afraid.”

That drew a little giggle out of her and it instantly captivated John and woke the urge to hear more of it. He wondered how a full laugh would sound like, if it would be as infectious and happy as her giggle was. “No, sorry, ‘m afraid not.” She smiled at him, a tongue-touched smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Ah, pity then,” he said, swallowing, trying desperately to play it cool and not stare again. _Especially_ not at the little bit of cleavage he could glean from between her open jacket.

Blimey, it was difficult. He’d never had that problem before.

Her grin widened and he couldn’t help but answer it. Something inside of him settled and calmed, as if her mere present worked like a balm on his frayed nerves.

Which was of course ridiculous.

“Is there something on my face?” she said, barely concealed laughter in her voice.

Blimey he’d been staring again. “No, no, there isn’t, of course there isn’t, I’m just… Erm… Just, just, just studying… stuff…” He moaned and buried his head in his hands, ruffling his hair in the process. “Oh my God I’m so sorry, you must think I’m a complete creep.”

She laughed. She _laughed._ Not believing his ears, he dared to peek at her from between his fingers, but she seemed genuinely amused, as far as he could tell. And oh, her laugh was just as lovely as he’d imagined, drawing him in and soothing his anxiety at this entire terrible situation better than any medication he’d tried ever had. How was she _doing_ that? “Weird, definitely, but you don’t feel like a creep, and trust me, I’ve met a few of those. So you’re fine for now.” She smiled at him again and turned slightly to offer him her hand. “Rose Tyler, nice to meet you.”

He took her hand and the contact sent a shock through his system. _Blimey._ His nerves were in extreme overdrive it seemed, latching onto any kind of stimulation to prevent him from thinking too closely about where he was right now. Yes, yes, that must be it. A perfectly logical explanation. “John Smith,” he said, glad (and frankly amazed) that his voice didn’t squeak like a stepped-on mouse.

“Oooh, are you an undercover agent?” she teased, an amused glint in her eyes.

John groaned. “No, I’m afraid not. I teach astrophysics at Oxford. My mother just thought it would be hilarious to have a child called ‘John Smith’. Mind, my older brother is called ‘Irving Braxiatel Smith’, so I think I did get the long end of the proverbial stick. Not that he minds, he’s been always strangely proud of his name. And I’m rambling about my family’s strange naming conventions, I’m so sorry. Never know when to stop, me, just tell me to shut up when I annoy you.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re fine. I don’t much like flying either. Never did as a child, didn’t have the money, so…” She shrugged. “I guess thank you for the distraction?”

“We can distract each other then,” John said, smiling weakly, glad that she truly didn’t seem to mind his gob.

She smiled back, tongue between her teeth. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

She looked on the verge of saying something else, her mouth already open, but she was interrupted by the crew confirming that boarding was complete and the plane ready for take-off. Things were a blur after that. The sounds of the turbines firing up and the feeling of the plane starting to move threw John back into a state of tense anxiety while the cabin crew’s safety dance just flew by him. He noted their bored expressions, how the stewardess closest to him had missed a button in her blouse and someone should tell her, how her colleague behind her had a faint lipstick mark peeking out from under her little scarf thingy, how the machine beneath him made some very unsettling clonking noises, how the cabin light flickered off and everything became that much dimmer since only the emergency lights and the faint evening sun illuminated the plane now, how the elderly woman beside Rose was calmly reading her magazine while bobbing her head to loud music and louder rustling pages, how Rose’s hand clamped down on his almost painfully yet felt as if it belonged there, its warmth reassuring and grounding.

Wait a second.

Startled he looked at their intertwined hands, each clutching at the other. He hadn’t even noticed her hand slipping into his, or had his grabbed hers? For all he knew, they never released their handshake – though she was holding the wrong hand for that, so perhaps not. He didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t care. He was loath to let her go and she didn’t pull back either (or didn’t notice herself; going by her pinched face, tightly closed eyes and controlled breathing she was focussing on entirely different things).

Something in John hissed in displeasure at the obvious distress she was in. Her face wasn’t meant for that expression. She was supposed to smile and laugh and be happy and make everyone around her happy too. He didn’t know how and why, but she’d managed to calm him mere minutes into their acquaintance. He wanted to give something back to her, if he could. Slowly, in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, he stroked his thumb over her hand and squeezed it gently, throwing a reassuring (again, he hoped) smile her way. She froze.

Oh no. That was not something you did with strangers, was it? Even when they clutched your hand like their life depended on it. He’d overstepped his bounds, why did he never think things through– He tried to pull away, to save the situation before it turned even more awkward, but her hold on his hand stopped him. He glanced at her nervously and caught her looking at their hands with a frown, but… she didn’t let go and instead settled back into her seat, closing her eyes. Some of the tension had left her body and _she hadn’t let go_ , but he had to make sure.

“Is this alright?” he asked softly, tentatively resuming the little circling motion.

She opened her eyes, slightly turning her head to look at him, a smile tucking at her lips. “You _are_ weird, you know? Most people don’t go around holding hands with strangers they met ten minutes ago.” Seeing his hesitation, she quickly added, “Yes, it’s… it’s alright, I think. Yeah.”

“Most people wouldn’t allow weird strangers they met only ten minutes ago to hold their hand,” John pointed out.

Rose’s lips twitched again. “Guess that makes me weird too.”

The plane that had been moving steadily until that point stopped, apparently in position for take-off. John took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “This is it. Here goes nothing.”

“Hmm,” Rose hummed, her eyes closed again.

“Take-off is the worst moment of flying. I just hate that feeling you get in your stomach and the way your ears pop. And all the noise! Did you know that take-off and climb are the second most dangerous moment during the flight? Only landing is more dangerous. 49% of all fatal accident happen during the final descent and landing process,” John rambled, unable to stop himself.

Rose opened an eye and glared at him. “Yes, thank you, I appreciate that information.”

He swallowed. “Not a good topic.”

“Not a good topic,” she confirmed.

“Oh. Sorry.” He paused, but he couldn’t help himself. “Does it make you feel better if I tell you that you only have a 0,1% chance of dying on an airplane?” Not that that astronomically low number had saved his parents, but then again, that had been a private little plane. He didn’t know if they were counted in the statistic. The memory of his parents, smiling and laughing and waving at him as they got onto their plane, haunted him to this day. His father had been the one in the cockpit. He’d promised John to take him one day and teach him, once he was old enough, but that day had never come. When John had finally been old enough, his father and mother were long buried, the plane nothing but a rusting wreck.

He’d never wanted to see a plane again, much less fly one.

Yet here he was, on board of a stupid plane because his stupid university had forced him to attend a stupid conference in bloody America because apparently just reading the relevant publications wasn’t enough to stay up to date.

“Not really,” Rose said, and it took John a moment to remember what they’d been talking about. Right. Chance of death on this little adventure of theirs. Lovely. Why did he always put his foot in his mouth?

“Right. Sorry.”

The noise of the turbines piped up again and the plane started forward, quickly gaining speed. Rose inhaled sharply and the pressure on his hand intensified as she grasped it more tightly. “Right, yeah. Got any other, not plane related statistics you could talk about?”

Right. He knew statistics. He worked with them almost daily. He _taught_ statistics to his students. He couldn’t remember a single on of them as the plane sped down the runway. “Err. There is a 1 in 2.700 chance that a gigantic asteroid will hit Earth in about a hundred-fifty years, potentially wiping out all life?”

That got her attention, enough to distract her from the fact that the plane was now slowly lifting into the air. Ack. He really did hate the feeling of that. And Rose was also looking at him incredulously. What had he said again? “Seriously?”

Ah, right. Impending doom. “Wellll, yes. Except for maybe the last bit,” he said, tucking at his earlobe with his free hand.

“Blimey. That does put things into perspective a little.”

“Ah! But it’s a tiny chance, and NASA is already working on it. Sending out a space probe, collecting data, calculating, coming up with plans to destroy the asteroid should it ever come too close… I wouldn’t worry too much. We’ll be long dead by then anyway.”

“’s still weird, thinking about Earth just ending that way. You never quite think about it, do you? You always take it for granted that your children and grandchildren and greatgrandchildren will have the same kind of life as you.”

John shrugged. “Well, I guess so? Even though that’s really never the case. Just think about global warming. Or dinosaurs – they were wiped out, and look! Life found a way.”

Rose smiled, bumping her shoulder into his. “Here we are.”

He bumped her back. “You and me, sitting in a metal bird, ten thousand metres above the ground.”

“Could be worse.”

“Could be.” He grew serious again. “Would have been if I didn’t have you as my neighbour.”

He didn’t think he imagined the slight blush on her face, even though she tried to hide it behind her long hair. “Well, I’m just amazing like that,” she mumbled.

“That you are.” The warmth in his voice surprised even him and he tried to fight down the blush before it could become too prominent. A slightly awkward kind of silence fell upon them and John cursed himself for being too forward. He’d never liked beating around the bush – he _could_ be subtle, and he was a master at hiding his true feelings and intentions if he wanted to (at least when he wasn’t fighting off panic attacks while crushing hard on a woman he’d just met), but he always preferred a more direct approach. Which wasn’t always the best way, he knew, especially not while flirting, but something in Rose just made him want to open up to her. And wasn’t that scary. He cleared his throat in hopes of hiding his embarrassment and bridging the awkwardness. “Er, right. Now that we’re properly in flight, want to watch a movie? Look, they even provided us with earphones! They look a bit rubbish though.”

Rose chuckled beside him and John let out a silent sigh of relief. “Yeah, let’s.” She tapped the monitor in front of her to browse through the selection and he copied her movement, quickly scanning through the program.

“Hmm, not exactly brilliant, is it? Blimey, that movie must be fifteen years old by now! I remember seeing it, it was horribly boring. And is that Titanic?”

Rose giggled and pointed at a movie on his monitor with a lot of blokes wearing very little. In fact, they were only wearing ties and (thankfully) some pants. “How about that one?”

“I’m appalled at your taste in men.”

She laughed at him, tongue between her teeth and something in him tightened. Minx. “Oh I dunno, they’ve got some _amazing_ abs.”

He sniffed, switching to the next movie. “Ooh, look, it’s that Harry Potter prequel!”

“Hmm,” she hummed, forehead wrinkled. “I don’t really want to support that woman but… I do wanna see it.”

“Then now is the perfect opportunity. Pity we don’t have any popcorn. Every good movie needs popcorn…”

Just then the stewardess with the lipstick on her neck (gone now, he noted) came down the aisle, pushing a trolley with drinks and snacks in front of her and asking if anyone would like a refreshment. Rose nodded towards her. “Don’t know if they have popcorn, but I could go for some tea and crisps too.”

John perked up, thinking that maybe this was his moment to shine, but then he deflated again. “I spent all my money on coffee at the airport,” he said miserably, seeing his snacks and Rose’s approval float down the drain.

She poked him. “What kind of cheap date are you?” she laughed, waving the stewardess over. “I’ll pay this time, but the next one is on you! What would you like?”

The next one? His heart fluttered at the thought. Rose was considering this a date? And she was thinking about a next time? “Ah, salt and vinegar crisps, I think, and a coffee? No, no, had enough of those, no more caffein – a fanta, no, sprite please.”

After Rose placed her own order of the same crisps and a cup of tea and payed, they settled back into their seats, using Rose’s personal, more comfortable earphones and his monitor. Which meant that she was leaning slightly towards him to see better. Which also meant that she was awfully close and he could feel her warmth through their layers of clothes, and smell her sweet, fruity perfume – or was it her shampoo, or just herself? He didn’t dare ask and call attention to how aware of her he was right now.

Thankfully, the movie pulled him in shortly after and he could almost imagine this was nothing but a movie night with one of his friends. Maybe Jack. He liked to cuddle, too. When they watched something together, they usually ended up casually leaning on each other or lying in the others lap, Jack well aware of John’s tactile nature and lack of physical touch in his day to day life. A big part of him was _thrilled_ to discover that Rose seemed to share his need for touch, because surely she didn’t have to lean in _quite_ so close to see the screen, or nestle her head into his shoulder like that to be comfortable.

It wasn’t until the movie was almost over and he heard a soft snoring sound that he noticed she’d fallen asleep on him.

John froze, unsure of what to do now. Should he wake her? Surely that position was going to be hell on her body and leave her sore. _You could offer to relax her_ , a small voice in his head whispered, but he pushed it aside resolutely. Nope. Not going there now. But he was also loath to shake her awake. It just felt too good to have her lean on him like that, and not just physically. Seeing her so relaxed and feeling safe enough to fall asleep on him, trusting him like that… It did something to him. It broke his heart just a little bit and healed him at the same time, and somehow, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.

And so he just let her sleep after gently removing her earphone and carefully draping the thin, blue blanket the airline provided over both of them. He wasn’t very successful since he couldn’t move too much without jostling Rose awake, but in the end it covered at least their legs, providing a little bit of extra warmth in the chilly plane. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the soft sounds of her breath lull him into sleep too.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Person A and person B meet on the plane when B falls asleep on A's shoulder". I took a few liberties with it and like how it turned out, but maybe I'll write a different, more literal take on it someday too.   
> I realised during editing this that Rose gets very little background, which is bugging me quite a lot, but I couldn't find a place to insert some without it turning into long, boring exposition >.< Sorry Rose! Maybe I'll rewrite this OS from her PoV and post it as a second chapter, both for background information and as practice on how different PoVs influence a scene. Could be interesting, maybe? Let me know if you would be interested in that, readers.  
> Until then, hope you enjoyed this OS and have a nice day! :)


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